Sky: We just can't stop, can we, Thalia? LOL Our ebilness abounds yet again, ladies and wizards!! This is a sequel of sorts to our first collab… and we're in it for the long haul… so I hope you will be too!! XD Spazziness, sexy Slytherins, and lots of Gryffie/Slythie relationships. What's not to love? Join us, and be corrupted!! **cackles**
Thalia: Yes, we're back. Read the otherfic for this to make some sort of sense to you. But this one is longer, even MORE evil, and it's going to be chaptered. We get to see both Oliver AND Marcus in this chapter (both spazzing, nonetheless), and much sexy Terence. You should love us. Of course you do. You should show your love by reviewing, too!
Disclaimer: There are many things that we don't own. And right now, we'd much prefer a hot guy in a tuxedo giving us free limo service than the ownership of fictional characters.
~*~ Karma's Payback ~*~
There were some days that Oliver Wood could, with enough alcohol and just enough imagination, just HEAR Murphy laughing maniacally up in the heavens (or perhaps down in hell where the old bugger BELONGED) at him.
This was one of the days.
It had been an equation of great simplicity, that had been one of the governing principles of his life. Gryffindors + Slytherins = Violent and Unrelenting Hatred.
THAT perfectly reasonable and perfectly respectable axiom had just been shattered. THRICE! Oh, if only he were girly (or drunk) enough to bury his head in his arms and have a good cry...
Well. He didn't really think that he'd want to grow breasts any time soon, but perhaps the firewhiskey would help him reach the necessary drunkenness level.
And then the fangirls attacked. Pounced, like kneazles on a poor, defenseless former Gryffindor yarn ball.
Yes, Murphy was cackling. May his black soul burn in the depths of the infernal regions. Where was Kirsten with the handy Bludger's bat when one needed her? Or, dammit, where was a paranoid Auror thinking they were eeeevil (which of course fangirls were)... or...
"STUPEFY! STUPEFY!" YES! A SAVIOUR! He might not be completely doomed to fangirl rape after life principle shattering, AFTER all! Slowly, ever so cautiously, he looked up to see who the mysterious saviour was.
A young woman in forest green robes with straight, dark hair was coolly levitating the two unconscious fangirls away from his table. Oliver blinked, confused for a few moments.
She didn't LOOK like an Auror...
For one thing, none of the Aurors he knew ever wore dangling earrings. Nor did they smirk at him in a genial sort of fashion and remark, "Popular thing you are."
"Who are you?" It would be the only reasonable question to ask. After all, he had no idea her motivations for helping him out of his plight. For all he knew, she could be another, far more dangerous and vicious fangirl. She walked closer towards him, still eyeing him with amusement.
"My name is Risa."
Hmm... she couldn't have been in his year. He didn't recall anyone named Risa in his year. Well. Perhaps she was somewhat younger. And didn't play Quidditch. That's probably why he had no idea who she was, even with a name offered. Too bad... if one overlooked that the poor girl had somehow managed to array herself in Slytherin green, she WAS rather pretty.
She asked him, as if she had every right to know, why he was getting drunk out of his mind, and when he asked her why she wanted to know, she remarked that the victory party was yesterday and he shouldn't be getting drunk again so soon.
And Oliver's mind, muddled though it was by the alcohol, was brought back, with a vengeance, to the terrifying things that he had learnt, all in the space of less than an hour. On how the equation Gryffindors + Slytherins = Violent and Unrelenting Hatred had, for NO APPARENT REASON, changed to Gryffindors + Slytherins = Really Good Sex. And now, he WAS drunk enough to bawl.
Soon, he found himself pouring out the whole, wretched, traumatic tale, slightly incoherent, dropping his face onto her shoulder and clinging to her for comfort (well. She WAS pretty) as she sat down next to him, drinking whatever it was that she was drinking, cool as a cucumber despite the fact that she was listening to a story that should by all rights horrify ANYONE.
And yet, she just mentioned her brother's unexpected upcoming marriage, passed over a plateful of biscuits, and moved his head from its comfortable spot on her shoulder. Damn, she didn't even seem FAZED by the idea of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin going at it.
Had he not been under the influence of half a bottle of firewhiskey, he would have been highly suspicious.
But right now, all he could do was to listen (rather dumbly) to her remark that Slytherins, in her obviously eccentric mind, weren't that bad.
What type of sacrilege was THAT!?
"Why, if it hadn't been for Cassius helping me out my 5th year, I'd never have made it out of my Transfiguration OWL alive... and there was that time when there was the Yule Ball at Hogwarts..."
Oliver started at this anecdote, his brow furrowed. It... he only knew of ONE person named Cassius, from Slytherin. It happened to be a particularly virulent individual of the species Gittus Snarkus Slytherinus. He gaped at her, wondering if she were somehow DRUGGED or something. Aside from a lack of reaction over the Gryffindor/Slytherin principle, she'd seemed all right. Decent. Pretty. Friendly.
But... associating willingly with Cassius bloody WARRINGTON?! Who the devil in her right mind would DO such a thing?! And did someone drug Warrington while they were at it, for him to willingly help a normal person without ulterior evil motives?! Honestly... dammit, they REALLY should have taken Snape seriously about the slipping random potions into their foods and drinks and...
But before Oliver could go into a fit over THIS incongruity, of apparent decency in Warrington's character, she finished her story. Something about Warrington taking her to the dance when her date had gone with some other girl. Something about Warrington hexing the other bloke.
Ahh... perhaps that was it. Warrington DID have evil, ulterior motives after all. Oliver didn't know if he should warn the girl that Slytherins were evil and Not To Be Dated As It Didn't Make Sense.
Until she said that Warrington WASN'T dating her, and made some sort of remark about Slytherins being human. Oliver felt torn between gladness that she wasn't being evilly seduced by some smarmy Slytherin Quidditch player (not that it really affected HIM... at the moment), and confusion, then, as to how said smarmy Slytherin might have had some semblance of human emotions in his villainous heart.
The most manly way of expression all this, of course, was by pouting. He looked adorable when pouting, and she would stop tying his brain in knots talking about how Slytherins were decent, etc. etc...
But she would have none of it. And... manipulative little wench woman, made him admit to himself that if Angie, Ali and Katie had been unhappy, they certainly would have come to him.
Dammit... a woman who was insane, sharp-witted, AND pretty. Next thing he'd know, she would be a Quidditch enthusiast, too! He was in TROUBLE.
She left some coins on the table, admonished him not to get a hangover, and left as quickly as she came, those green robes rustling slightly as she swept out of the pub.
"Don't take it too hard, m'boy. Just like her brother, she is. All Flints have a way of making others feel a touch on the smaller side."
It took a few seconds for THIS statement to register in his mind, but when it did, he choked. BLOODY FUCKING BRIMSTONE PLASTERED HELL.
FLINT.
And not just... ANY Flint. Marcus bloody sodding hateful son-of-a-bint Flint's SISTER. How the HELL did THAT prat get a normal, nay, even... dare he say it... ATTRACTIVE sister!?!?!
It just didn't make any sense. It was... what was that word... SURREAL. All of it.
And as his head hit the top of the table, Oliver was sure he could hear Murphy laughing his depraved arse off.
~*~
It was a very formal-looking invitation. Cream-coloured, silver-edged parchment, rolled and tied with a silver ribbon, the words on it engraved in a formal, classic script.
Oliver Wood was cordially invited (probably with the cordiality on the bride's part alone) to attend the wedding of Kathryn Ann Bell and Marcus Horatio Flint, on the first of October, at the Flint residence in Yorkshire, etc. etc.
Staring at the fine parchment as a Potions researcher might at some particularly unrecognizable vial of sludge, Oliver gave a deep, mournful sigh. It was... all real! He could feel the slightly powdery surface of the parchment, the tiny depressions formed by the engraved words on it. Katie and... Flint?! It really didn't make any sense. Bloody hell, the bastard had shoved her off her broom and given her Merlin only knew how many bruises in their school days!
'My brother's getting married to the last person that anyone, even himself, expected him to.' Egads... and she would be there! At THAT thought, the disgruntled and gloomy thoughts that had been swimming around in Oliver's head truly manifested themselves in a pout upon his face. He could just see what would happen. The daft bird would just be there and all but point at Marcus and Katie and smirk at him and be like "boo-yah! see? SEE?!" and be all smart and clever and snarky and pretty and... what the devil was he thinking?!
"Evil little pretty Slytherin wench," he groaned, glaring sullenly at the innocent-looking parchment in his lap as if it had somehow mortally offended him.
"Ooh, who's the pretty Slytherin wench?" A very amused male voice sounded close by, as Terence Higgs sauntered over, eyebrows raised and a smirk in place upon his face. "She must really be something, eh? To catch the eye of this virulently anti-serpent Quiddisexual Kilted Wonder."
The glare Oliver shot him would have had Voldemort behaving like a good ickle puppy rather than facing his wrath. Terence, however, was oblivious as he swung up and sat right on the corner of the desk Oliver was at. "Don't read so much into that, Higgs," the Scot warned. "She hasn't caught anything of mine except maybe my annoyance."
"And who might this paragon be, anyway?" Terence asked, still smirking and evidently ignoring Oliver's insistence that the 'evil little pretty Slytherin wench' had incited nothing but annoyance. "Y'know, if I know her, I could put in a good word for you." He gave a benevolent sort of grin that somehow irritated Oliver more than a smirk would have.
"Were you anyone other than yourself, I would say thank you for your concern... but you're you. I REALLY don't need you of all people putting in a good word for me, thanks. Not with her being a..." Oliver paused, his face twisted as though it was extremely difficult for him to say the next word. "Flint," he finally managed to choke out.
Terence's eyes widened, before they glittered in both amusement and fondness. "Flint? You must be talking about Risa... ahh, lovely girl, she is..."
"Yes she... Wait a minute. You know Flint's sister?? Since when?" Oliver demanded, praying that he covered his accidental confession before Terence could notice it.
Terence noticed it, though, and his smirk widened to very painful-looking proportions. "Oh, for the loooongest time," the Slytherin drawled, taking a somewhat malicious delight in keeping his captain in a state of discomfort, "She WAS in my house. AND my year. We've known each other of old... and where did YOU meet her, might I ask?"
Shifting in a way that showed he was feeling a touch uncomfortable, Oliver looked away and muttered vaguely, "Umm... we bumped into each other at the Shifty Niffler. So... is she a... friend of yours then? Or was she one of your... you know...." He made absent gestures with his hands, trying to hint at what he didn't want to say; that maybe she had been a member of his 'harem'.
Had Terence been able to truthfully say yes, he certainly would have, by all means, just to observe the actions of what no one had ever seen before: a jealous Oliver Wood. But the Slytherin gave a rather dramatic sigh, before fixing Oliver with a dirty look, "You must be joking, right? Flirt with Risa with Flint there ready and willing to brain any bloke with dishonourable intentions? I'm not that stupid. No… all of us were rather more fraternal towards her than anything else. I didn't know her as well as some, but she was a great deal of fun." He gave a nostalgic sign before winking, "I wish I could tell you that I took her virginity or something like that just to see you go into a jealous rage."
"WHY would I fly into a jealous rage?!?" Oliver snarled at the younger man, "She's… she's… a Flint…"
"True," Terence nodded thoughtfully, "But a rather pretty one. But don't you worry, captain," he gave Oliver a smarmy sort of look, "I'm not interested. I have an Ali, which is enough."
"That just makes me feel so much better," Oliver glowered at the Seeker, "The little… she didn't even tell me who she was! While she was there!"
Terence clapped his hands and grinned, "Good girl… got you thinking that she's some sweet young thing, and then you found out her identity. And now, let me guess… you can't help but still think that she's a sweet young thing. Despite knowing who she is. Ah, the fun…"
"This isn't bloody FUN," Oliver growled, "And I do NOT think she's a sweet young thing. HONESTLY…"
"Well then," Terence gave him an almost approving sort of look, "You're less thick than I'd thought. You're right, because she isn't exactly 'sweet'. But then, 'sweet' Slytherins are about as rare as albino zebras. Or slutty Hufflepuffs."
"That was just what I wanted to know," Oliver grimaced in disgust, "Thank you ever so much."
"You're so very welcome," Terence, still perched on the desk, swung his legs slightly as his face took on a rather faraway expression. "Why, Risa… when I first met her, she still wore her hair in braids…"
Braids? Oliver thought back to the young woman he'd met at the pub, dark hair down her back half-pinned away from her face with a clip of gold. He squinted slightly as he tried to picture this same individual, much shorter, with braids. It was just… rather difficult.
"See, Malfoy," Terence rolled his eyes slightly, "Had taken my position on the team. Bought it, really. With a bunch of broomsticks. And then I'd nothing to do. Two years as Seeker… and that was it. Oh, those were unhappy times…" the Slytherin shook his head grimly.
"Of course, I did what I usually did when unhappy. Whined to my cousin Cassius about it at length, but he got sick of listening to it after a while and told me that there wasn't really anything he or I could do about it. I remember running down the hall fuming after that conversation…"
Oliver winced slightly, feeling an odd rush of sympathy for the young man. Had he been replaced just like that… "And?"
"Oh, I wasn't really watching where I was going," Terence remarked, "Almost knocked the poor bird off her feet. And then when I saw who it was, I almost wish I HAD. The sister of the Quidditch captain who sold away MY position."
Terence gave a slight sigh, and grinned ruefully, "I remarked something along those lines to her."
"And what befell you?"
"Oh, she glared and gave me one of those girly punches… well, it did hurt a little bit. And she told me that at least I got to play at all. As a girl, she'd have no chance whatsoever, if she were so inclined. Very logical one, she is… you just can't argue with her. It doesn't work, and she always wins. That's probably why she got on so well with Cassius. They were both that type, really. Like a second brother, he was…"
Oliver, however, didn't pay attention to the remarks about Cassius Warrington, and mulled what Terence had said before that in his head. 'Very logical one, she is… you just can't argue with her. It doesn't work, and she always wins.'
He choked down an irrational temptation to give Terence an evil look and demand "Why didn't you TELL me that before?!"that had suddenly arose.
Terence, evidently finished with the reminiscing, nimbly got off the top of the desk and gave his captain an impertinent sort of grin. "Ah well… though I can't say that I have any first-hand experience in the area, alas, I daresay that she could be a good shag, if you manage to not get murdered by Marcus. Although…" Here, the Seeker sobered slightly, "I wouldn't recommend using her as a shag on the side. Believe it or not, we Slytherins do also practice the 'break her heart and we hex you into an unrecognizable, convulsing mass of shrieking bloodied arsehole male' thing, too. And if she cries… well. There wouldn't just be the wrath of Marcus Flint to contend with. Warrington, Montague, Pucey, Bletchley, myself… oh, it might get a little bit unpleasant."
ARGH! On top of everything else, bloody Terence Higgs just had to bring up something that might somehow give the impression that Slytherins had positive personality traits: such as loyalty and care to their own. Oliver turned away and resumed his silent evil-eye treatment of the wedding invitation.
As if reading his thoughts, Terence moved slightly away, with one parting shot. "I'll let you fantasize about intriguing evil pretty Slytherin women in peace, then." Snapping a mocking, jaunty salute, the Seeker skipped off back towards his own desk, leaving Oliver in a dark mood not untinged with utter confusion.
~*~
On a day like today, the sun out and shining with occasional fluffy clouds drifting by and a gentle breeze keeping things from getting too warm, the practice pitch was booked from sunup to sundown. Teams would rotate in, the next bunch of players turned into slaves by their captain or coach's will for the next hour until tired and sweaty, they'd leave the pitch for the following batch of poor souls.
Alicia Spinnet was thoroughly glad she was not one of those poor souls on this day.
Today she merely lounged in the empty seats, her legs draped over the seat in front of her and a book she had been reading sprawled across her stomach as she semi-dozed in the afternoon rays. She was just starting to idly wonder if she should go get something for lunch (as it was pretty late in the day), when a shadow fell over her. Blinking sleepily, she looked up into the amused, albeit upside-down, face of Terence Higgs.
"Observing the enemy, my dear Ali? Taking notes on the other teams' techniques? Wood will be so proud of you when you report in."
"Oh stuff it," Alicia growled playfully, taking a swat at the arm braced on her seat.
"And I love you too," he teased back before vaulting over the seat to plop down in the one next to her.
Pulling her legs back down to the floor, she sat up, marking her spot in her book before putting it off to the side. "You know I wouldn't spy on the other teams, Ter..." she started.
"Of course you wouldn't. Not sweet, ickle, honourable Gryffindorish Alicia." Terence laughed as she took another swat at him. "Ooh, spankings… kinky…" he waggled his eyebrows mischievously at her.
"You watch your mouth, mister!" she threatened, sticking her tongue out childishly.
He remained quiet long enough to watch as her tongue stroked her bottom lip before disappearing behind it. "Why should I watch my mouth when I would much rather watch yours?" he asked in that low purr of his that sent warm tingly feelings shooting down a lady's spine.
Alicia quivered slightly as her reaction was just that. Still, she tried to put up a brave front in the face of defeat. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Higgs," she stated as though his voice and words had no effect on her whatsoever and made as if to pick up her book again.
Not fooled one iota, Ter covered her hand with his, keeping her from reaching the novel, and when she turned to look at him, he was already leaning in to capture her lips before she could do anything else. He took his time, his mouth moving against hers with sweet patience, seducing her right off her guard and into a drowsy, relaxed state. When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open and closed, looking like she did before: as though she had just woken up from a nice long nap.
When she could finally remember how to focus her eyes, Alicia couldn't help reflecting the grin, Ter shot her. "So... what do I owe the honor of such a pleasant 'hello', hmm?"
"Well for starters, I figured you might be hungry, so I brought us a little something..." he reached behind the seat to where he had set down a handful of things, two of them being glass bowls of fruit salad. Patting himself on the back at the pleased look on her face for having guessed correctly that she hadn't had lunch yet, he gave her one of the bowls before handing her a small stack of envelopes. "And this, is your mail. I went looking by your desk to bring you lunch... but when I heard you were out here, I figured you hadn't read your letters yet. Plus it seems like you got an invitation to the big event too."
"Big event...?" Alicia balanced her bowl on her lap while she sifted through the letters before she came across the cream-coloured note. "Oh! Katie's wedding! You're going then?"
"One of the groomsmen," Ter explained. "What about you?"
Reading the invite quickly, she beamed and announced, quite happily, "And I'll be one of the bridesmaids!"
"Not maid of honor?" he asked, puzzled.
With a playful giggle, Alicia shook her head. "Nope. Angelina's going to be that. Back when we were still in Hogwarts, we starting talking about someday when we might get married, and promised we would pick each other for maid of honor. So at Angelina's wedding, that's when I'll be it..."
"And at ou- yours, Katie will be your maid of honor," Terence finished, purposely smirking confidently in an attempt to hide his slip-up.
Unfortunately for him, Ali had zoned right in on it. "Ours?" she squeaked. "You were going to say 'ours', weren't you?"
Shifting awkwardly, Ter pulled back, whether to give himself or her some space, he wasn't sure. "Sorry... I didn't mean to... jump to conclusions like that. I don't want to rush things either... and we've only been steady for what, two weeks? It's just..." He hesitated, biting his lip in a way that made him look adorably vulnerable... a look made all the more endearing by the fact that it was an expression he rarely wore. "I've never... felt so... in tune with someone. So... connected and close." Carefully, he took her hand in his, taking as a good sign when she didn't pull away. "You complete me, Alicia."
Alarm melted away to reveal the young woman close to tears, even as she smiled warmly at him. Try as she might, Ali couldn't think of anything to say... or at least anything that could compete with what he'd just said, so she decided to let actions speak louder than words. The hand that wasn't nestled in his reached up to stroke his cheek lovingly, and he turned to kiss the palm, his eyes locked on hers. When she still said nothing, he arched a brow, wondering what she was up to. But then she cupped his face and guided his lips to hers.
The world seemed to be under Silencio as the two kissed, oblivious to the random whistle from one of the players above who noticed the lovers in the stands before a sharp reprimand from his captain dragged him back to the practice. What did snap Alicia out of their tender moment was the feeling of something on her lap slipping... namely her lunch. She pulled back with a gasp as she felt it fall over the edge of her knee.
With his lightning fast Seeker reflexes, Terence's hand shot out and managed to catch the glass bowl before its plunge without spilling so much as a grape. He grinned as Alicia gave him an impressed look. "I'm a useful lad to have around, you can't deny that," he said cheerfully.
"Oh, I'd never deny it," Alicia replied coyly. Then she sobered slightly. "It's not that... I don't like the idea of marrying you, you know. It's just..."
"Too soon," Ter finished, her relieved look confirming it. He leaned back, returning her lunch to her. "I understand that. I'm not ready to jump into marriage myself yet either. But maybe..."
"Someday," Alicia wrapped up with a smile.
"Someday," Ter echoed, before a devious smirk spread across his lips. "Besides... I want to milk our dear captain's torture as much as possible with this upcoming wedding before I give him fresh horror to have kneazle kits over."
Ali sighed as she popped a strawberry in her mouth, her boyfriend following suit with his own bowl of fruit. "Oliver's still not taking it well?"
"Oh the whole thing's going over him like a lead balloon," Ter snarked. Then he shook his head. "He'll get used to it. And I have to admit, I'm rather impressed he hasn't hexed Flint, Montague, and myself beyond recognition yet. Either he has excellent self-control," Alicia snorted and Terence snickered at her reaction, "Or... he's got his mind on other things."
Raising an eyebrow, Alicia asked, "Is there something you know that I don't?"
At this point, Ter's grin would have made Voldemort himself proud of the pure evil that was in it. "He's met Flint's younger sister, Risa. It's REALLY got his knickers in a twist... and not necessarily in a bad way."
"Risa Flint?" Ali repeated thoughtfully. "Ah yes... she was in our year, but your house. I remember now... I got paired up with her from time to time in class. She was always pretty decent as far as Slytherins went... and no, don't give me that look," she warned as Ter's face threatened to scowl. "We weren't too different from Oli at one point in time, thinking all Slytherins were evil."
"Yes, but you and your female companions are smarter than that; you catch on quicker than our poor sod of a captain who is still insisting on drowning in denial."
Alicia chortled, but opted to not openly agree with his statement. "Well, anyways... Risa was actually pretty easy to get along with. Although our differences were rather apparent when it came to Quidditch matches; house loyalty and all that... but she's a good person. Just... what does SHE have to do with Oliver?"
His eyes glinting with sheer mischief and amusement, Ter told Ali what he had managed to glean off of Oliver. Ali's eyes went wide before she started to snicker. "So you think that Risa and Oliver...?"
"Well, I haven't seen her recently enough to tell if the feeling's mutual, but I do believe Wood is starting to rethink that 'All Slytherins are off-limits' policy of his."
"Now this I've got to see..."
"You just might. If I'm not mistaken, Risa will undoubtedly take part in her brother's wedding. We shall have to keep an eye on the two dears. Can't let them do anything too... naughty."
Alicia elbowed him lightly, causing him to laugh. "You make it sound like they're fourth years who need to be kept from trying to sneak off for a snog. They're adults, Ter, as are we."
"Oh, I KNOW we're adults," Ter said, waggling his eyebrows. He only grinned when Ali sent him a mock-glare.
"My point is that they don't need chaperones. But..." She hesitated for a moment... then began to smirk. "It should make for an interesting show to see unfold."
"Exactly, love," Terence agreed. "We are acting solely out of the concern of our hearts to make sure our dear captain and the groom's sister behave accordingly."
Alicia snorted. "Like WE behave 'accordingly'..."
"What folks don't know... or at least, know much of... won't hurt them. Speaking of which... care to, ahem, 'go behave accordingly' now?"
With a look that would almost be classified as predatory, Alicia leaned up and nipped along his jaw line before reaching his ear and whispering, "With you? Always."
"Your place or mine?"
"Uh-uh, lover-boy. It was my place last night. Your turn now."
"Done."
And gathering their things, they vanished with a loud 'crack' leaving the
stands once again deserted.
~*~
In the stately mansion, well-hidden from Muggle eyes, in Wakefield, Yorkshire, a powerfully-built young man was bickering with his fiancée.
"I still don't see why you had to invite him," Marcus Flint was growling, his beefy arms crossed over his chest, and nodding towards the guest list on the table. "He's…"
"My former Quidditch captain, and a friend," Katie said firmly, "Of course I'd invite him. It would be terribly rude not to."
"Perhaps," Marcus narrowed his eyes slightly, "But it's not as though we're on exactly friendly and jovial terms…"
"True," Katie nodded slowly, "But can't you put that behind? I mean… we didn't always get along as well as we do now, either."
"I don't and never had any intention of shagging Oliver Wood. This makes a big difference."
Before Katie could do much more than glare, the door to the drawing room opened, and the head of a young woman peered in. "Hopefully I'm not interrupting anything too serious?"
"Oh, it's you," Marcus nodded at his 'baby sister', "Nothing too important. Just telling Kat that she's daft for inviting that great Scottish git for the wedding."
Risa raised a curious eyebrow, "Why wouldn't Katie want to invite Oliver Wood? It's… you know… sort of natural. They had been teammates and friends in their school days."
"That was before we got together," Marcus shrugged, as if his 'getting together' with Katie changed everything so intrinsically, that there really was nothing else to say.
Risa gave her brother a challenging smirk, "What, are you afraid that Wood's going to attempt to disembowel you for evilly seducing one of his girls? I've met the bloke… he really doesn't seem to be that violent a sort."
"I would be scared if he didn't want to disembowel me, but that's beside the point, which is that he's merely a royal pra--- you met him?!" Now Marcus was gaping at his sister in outrage, "Where?! When?! What did he do?!"
"Calm down, Marcus," Risa shook her head wryly, "I just happened to see him in the pub the other day. He didn't do anything, I didn't do anything… It was merely me watching him drink himself out of his gourd and listening to him wail about how his poor ickle Chasers had been seduced by vile Slytherins such as yourself. I think that was the day he found out from his teammates that you two were, in fact, engaged."
The fact that his sister had, in fact, not performed kinky sexual favours for the stupid Scottish berk, as Marcus was wont to think of Oliver, did not really reassure the man that his sister was all right. "But he was drunk, then! He could have done any number of terrible things to you! RIIIISSAAA!"
"Oh, bloody wonderful," Risa rolled her eyes, "Are you going to wail, too? That will be completely unnecessary… and moreover, even if he HAD tried anything, which he didn't, I would have been able to handle myself, wouldn't you say? It wasn't as though I was drunk, too. And what with you and Warrington and Bletchley and the lot of you hanging about me all the time in school, you do realize that I know a few nasty hexes if the necessity arose."
"WHY DIDN'T YOU USE THEM, THEN?!"
"Because there was no use?" Risa gave her brother an odd look, "Now, now… calm down, really. Even if Oliver 'Slytherins are eeeeeevil!!' Wood had the inclination to try anything funny, he was rather too plastered and wouldn't have been very effectual anyway. Do stop wasting your time flailing and yelling at me. Save all the energy for your wedding night, hmm?"
Marcus spluttered for a few moments, gave her a dark scowl, realized (as most did) that he couldn't win, and stalked out of the room, muttering something about snarky little bint sisters. Risa watched his retreating back with a smirk on her face.
"Ahem," Katie cleared her throat, eyeing her future sister-in-law with a half-expectant, half-suspicious look on her face, "All right then... where's the rest of the story that you DIDN'T tell your brother?"
The Slytherin woman chuckled slightly in amusement, "Oh, the part where your former captain started sobbing on my shoulder? Well. He WAS drunk."
Now Katie raised both eyebrows in an expression of astonishment. "Really. He must have been… to cuddle up with the sister of his great enemy. Can't get past school Quidditch rivalry, that one.."
Risa beamed, an affable smile belied by the mischief in her eyes. "Oh, he didn't know who I was. For all I know, he might have thought I was a sweet and innocent Hufflepuff."
The dark-blonde former Gryffindor gave a snort, "Yeah, right…"
"Anything is possible. If you could fall silly in love with my git brother, KATHRYN, ANYTHING is possible," Risa said with a beatific grin.
Katie gave her a shrewd look, crossing her arms. "Oh, such as YOU... letting Oliver Wood... sob on your shoulder."
"Oh, not for long I didn't," Risa raised an eyebrow in amusement, "I removed his head from my shoulder after a moment. Didn't want to run the risk of him blowing his nose on my robes."
At that, Katie had to laugh, and the other woman laughed with her. "Ah well... now that I have met your former captain... I have to say that it WAS a very amusing experience, all in all. And if he weren't drunk as a wheelbarrow and blubbering like a three year old deprived of chocolate frogs, he would be rather endearing. There is something to be said about Quidditch players from rival houses, no?" The last was spoken rather impishly, with a wink.
"I'll save any compliments for your brother to tell him in private," Katie said firmly, "But your positive estimation of Oli…"
"Don't worry. I won't mention it to Marcus. It WOULD be terribly sad for him to spend his wedding night in Azkaban for murder," Risa swore solemnly, though her lips were still quirked into an amused grin. "It will be dinnertime soon, I'll go and get ready."
Katie smiled wryly as she, too, walked out of the drawing room.
~*~
Later that evening, Marcus waited for his turn in the bathroom he and Katie shared, sitting on the edge of the bed clad only in a pair of trousers. When Katie finally emerged in her slip of a nightgown, a towel over her arm. She grinned slightly when she caught sight of the scowl on her fiancé's face.
"Don't tell me you're STILL mad..."
"I'm not mad exactly," he corrected, arms crossed over his bare chest. His posture relaxed slightly however when Katie put her towel aside and curled up on the bed next to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. "I just... he's going to cause trouble. He's a stubborn, kilted git, and he'll be raising hell about us and he's..."
"My friend," Katie cut him off firmly. "Please, Marcus... I want him to be there. I want him there just as much as I want Ali and Angie there..."
"Well, the girls I don't mind. THEY got used to the idea pretty quick. Although I think that's because they had some... 'help' in that department." He smirked, recalling Montague, his best man, telling him how perfect things were turning out with he and Angelina Johnson, his girlfriend for nearly four months now, were to be paired up at the wedding ceremony. Plus there was that little tidbit he added about pairing a certain former Seeker of his with a certain Ms. Spinnet. "But Wood... he's not as sharp as they are. I'm just worried he's going to cause some... unpleasant scenes." Marcus knew he was virtually whining, but he didn't care. Granted, his old rival being at his wedding wasn't going to sour his mood, but it would certainly be annoying.
Thinking of her conversation with his sister earlier, Katie said thoughtfully. "Oh, I doubt things will be unpleasant... but that's not to say that things won't be interesting."
Marcus looked at his wife-to-be sharply. "And what, pray tell, is THAT supposed to mean?"
"Oh," she replied, radiating innocence, "Just the fact that he's going to have to make himself behave like a gentleman. He really is a good friend, and he wouldn't want to make me, or Ali, or Angie upset , even if it meant getting a very evil Slytherin in the bargain." She winked coyly up at him after her 'evil' remark.
Successfully distracted, Marcus grinned wolfishly down at the woman beside him, before uncrossing his arms and wrapping them around her in return. "Ah, but you like that I'm evil, don't you, love?"
Pretending to think about it, Katie answered, "Hmmm... I'm not sure. Why don't you show me?"
And Marcus promptly forgot that it was his turn for the bathroom, his mind occupied by the sexy witch who was secretly snickering at the idea of how things would turn out on their wedding day.